Tongue-Tied
by MadAuntieKeith
Summary: Coffee shop AU: In which Jem can read her brother like a book, Amy plays matchmaker, and Simon can't talk to pretty boys. Pure, unadulterated fluff- enjoy!


**I needed to write some fluff- too much angst going on at the moment!**

**I've never tackled the time-honoured coffee shop AU before so I thought I'd give it a go- this is fairly quick and unformed so sorry if it sucks, but I thought it wasn't bad for a first attempt!  
**

**So, here it is- lots of fluff in which Jem can read Kieren like a book, Amy plays matchmaker and Simon Monroe can't talk to cute boys (soooooo not AU in that respect xD), enjoy! I dedicate this to ilikedthewayhegaveback, it was her birthday recently and she's awesome!**

* * *

Kieren flops against the wall with a sigh, reaching up to massage his temples with his fingers. If he hears that stupid joke _one more time_…

"Y'alright there, bro?"

Kieren looks up, smiling wearily at Jem across the kitchen. "Yeah. Great."

She raises her eyebrow, eyeing him from where she stands loading the dishwasher. "The joke?"

He nods grimly. "The joke."

"How many times is that today?" she grins, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Fourteen," he grumbles, glowering at her as she sniggers. "And counting."

_The joke. _That fucking joke was the bane of his existence- he got it at least twenty times a day without fail. The worst part was that everyone who said it seemed to think they were being original. He'd talked to the manager- a woman named Connie, a nice if slightly severe old lady who'd hired him on his sister's recommendation- about the possibility of changing the default greeting from "Hi, I'm _-insert name here-_ and I'll be your server this morning/afternoon/evening" to something a little less… tempting. Or maybe just cut to the chase altogether with a simple "You ready to order?". Unfortunately the woman wouldn't be swayed- either she really was as serious about customer service as she claimed to be, or she got some kind of perverse pleasure in watching her employees go slowly insane. He wouldn't doubt either.

He remembers the first customer he ever served- a customer that happened to be his own dad, visiting town to check on his kids a few weeks after the eldest had finally flown the nest. It had been funny, at first. Kieren had greeted his father with a smile and a chirpy (and slightly sarcastic): "Hi, I'm Kieren, and I'll be your server this afternoon!"

Steve Walker had responded with a goofy grin and: "Hi, I'm Steve, and I'll be your _customer _this afternoon!"

Kieren had chuckled and rolled his eyes- it was clichéd and unoriginal, but it was still amusing. Maybe it was just his first day energy making it seem that way.

His amusement faded as the day went on and he heard the exact same joke seven more times.

He's been working at this café for nearly two months now, and not a damn thing has changed.

"Kier!" Jem calls, and Kieren snaps himself back out of his gloomy recollections. She's standing near the door now, unpacking a fresh box of tomatoes. She jerks her thumb towards the small glass window when she knows she has his attention. "One of your regulars is here- go sort 'im out, would you?"

Kieren frowns, striding back to the door and peeking through the window. A familiar head of dark hair catches his eye. "Huh," he mumbles, picking up a menu from the rack and grabbing the handle. "Not like him to show up alone."

The man in question is tall and frustratingly attractive, with blue eyes and brown hair so dark it's almost black. He's never spoken to Kieren directly, but he's heard his voice from a distance as he speaks to the various people clustered around him- he sounds Irish. He's never seen him like this before, sat on his own at a small table by the window, fiddling nervously with the sleeves of his ridiculous oversized jumper (and he absolutely will _not_ think about how cute that is). Usually he has at least half a dozen people with him, hanging off his every word. His group often changed, people leaving or joining constantly, with the permanent exception of the jolly girl in the colourful dresses who was never away from his side- apparently even she hadn't made an appearance today.

The man sees him approaching, and Kieren wonders if his cheeks really just turned pink or if he was just imagining things. It wouldn't be surprising- exhaustion and joke-induced madness will do that to you. Hallucination or not, Kieren did have more of a spring in his step now- the man had never directly spoken to him before, often just sitting by and watching as the cheerful girl in petticoats placed their orders. For some reason (oh, alright, a dead obvious reason) he is actually quite excited to hear him speak.

"Hi," he says as he reaches the table, handing the man a menu and hiding a blush of his own as he receives a smile in response. "I'm Kieren, and I'll be your server today."

The man hesitates before speaking, caught in some kind of internal debate. When he opens his mouth with an uneasy smirk Kieren knows with a dull sense of certainty exactly what's coming. He's seen that look before.

The joke.

_Dammit, and you were so cute, too…_

He's desperately trying to hide his disappointment when the man speaks, voice confident (or at least feigning confidence remarkably well).

"Hi, Kieren," he says with a charming smile. "I'm Customer and I'll be your simon today."

His brow furrows.

"…Shit."

Kieren almost forgets to be annoyed at him. He bites back laughter as 'Customer' looks mortified. "Never heard that one, before," Kieren smirks.

Now he _knows _he's not imagining the red in his cheeks. The man he now knows as Simon immediately picks up the menu and hides his face behind it, muttering a request for: "Coffee. Lots of coffee. So much coffee."

"Comin' right up," Kieren chuckles, turning on his heel and striding back to the kitchen a little faster than usual. As soon as he gets there he shuts the door behind him, leaning against it and grinning.

"S'up?" Jem asks, smiling knowingly.

He raises his eyebrow. "What's with that look?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," she says indifferently (and unconvincingly).

He glances between her and the door, noticing that she's managed to unpack a grand total of three tomatoes since he left. "Were you spying on me?"

"Now, why would I do that?" she asks indignantly, but he sees her bite her lip.

He gives her a withering look, walking over to the coffee maker at her side. "Jem, what's going on?"

She rolls her eyes, smacking his shoulder and almost making him drop the coffee beans. "God, you're so dense, you know that? That bloke fancies you!"

"Shut up," Kieren mutters, but his face is red and he knows it.

"Well, it's true," she shrugs, and he notices that she's now given up unpacking the tomatoes in favour of juggling with them. "You're too thick to notice, but he stares at you every time he's here. Barely takes his eyes off you."

"So?" he mumbles, focusing intently on the task of blending Simon's coffee rather than looking at Jem's face.

"_So,_" she parrots sarcastically, punching his shoulder lightly. "You should go talk to him- how long 'ave I been telling you to go out and meet someone, eh?"

"Already met someone," he says quietly as the liquid comes to boil.

"Kier," she says firmly, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her. "Rick left _two years ago_. You don't have to wait for him forever, y'know."

Kieren glowers at her, but he knows she's right. But it's difficult enough to admit that to _himself_, let alone her. When Rick enlisted he'd left without a word, barely so much as a 'see you later, alligator' before he was on the next train out. They hadn't really had a chance to talk about… them, whatever _they _were. To this day he wasn't even sure if they had even been an _us, _but he'd held on anyway. He didn't want to give up that easily.

Jem watches his face, his eyes glazed and deep in thought, before sighing and throwing her hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine, just keep on wallowing for the rest of your life, what do I care. Just… talk to someone, okay? Least you can do is make some friends."

She picks up the remaining boxes and carries them back to the store room. "Connie," she calls over her shoulder, putting the boxes on a shelf and pulling her apron over her head. "Goin' on break!"

Kieren watches her slouch out through the back door, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she wonders across the road for lunch. Probably off to meet Lisa, again.

He sighs, lifting the coffee pot and setting it on the tray beside a cup and saucer. He thinks about the man waiting by the window, probably banging his head on the table over his unfortunate tongue-twister, and can't fight a small smile.

He fiddles with the napkin on the tray, considering. He pulls the pen from his pocket, uncapping it.

_It's not like you have to do anything, _he tells himself as he scrawls on the pristine napkin. _You're not making any promises._

He reads over his words carefully, smiling and setting the napkin note-side down on the tray before picking the lot up.

_But Jem is right- you could definitely stand to make some more friends._

He pushes through the kitchen door, smiling as he sees Simon immediately duck his head. He carefully puts his coffee down in front of him, unloading the milk and sugar before finally setting the napkin down at his side. He turns away before he can see the man's reaction to the note, hurrying back to the kitchen with the empty tray under his arm and grinning all the way.

'_Customer'- unusual name. Is it German?_

Simple. Nothing implied, nothing too forward, just friendly chatter. Maybe nothing would come of it, who knew?

It isn't until half an hour later, when Simon gets up and leaves and Kieren wanders over to collect the money on the table, that he finds a response. He reads the carefully scribed letters on the back of the receipt, his smile widening with each word.

_Irish, actually. Meaning 'dry mouth' or 'twat who is incapable of talking to attractive people'. Apparently my parents were prophets._

Kieren grins, tucking the receipt into his pocket surreptitiously. If that's the kind of dry humour he can expect, he's looking forward to getting to know Simon.

* * *

In the following weeks, Simon falls into a habit of dropping in without his troupe in tow. He smiles shyly every time Kieren greets him with a chirpy 'Mornin', Customer!', often places an order for gratuitous amounts of coffee, reads the notes scribbled on the napkins and leaves his own along with a generous tip on the receipts. Kieren keeps them all, tucked into the pages of his sketchbook along with his napkin notes. He has whole conversations in note form trapped in the pages, and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face every time he reads his various favourites.

"What're you grinning at?" Jem asks one morning, startling him as he slams his book shut.

"Nothing," he answers, possibly a little too quickly.

"Riiiiiiiight," she says, sniggering. "What's 'e written this time?"

She glances at his shocked face, rolling her eyes. "Kier, I see you tucking those notes in your pocket every time he leaves, you're pretty bloody obvious about it- come on, what's he saying?"

He narrows his eyes, sliding the book back into his bag. "Even if that were true, it'd be none of your business."

"Ooh, getting defensive, are we?" she teases, winking. "No worries, big bro- your secret's safe with me!"

"There's no secret," he mutters, but still smiles as she reaches up to ruffle his hair. Fucking Hell she's a pain, but he loves her to bits.

As the sound of a van honking its horn outside alerts her to the arrival of a new delivery, Kieren takes the time to himself to once again flick through the book, smiling softly at all the ridiculous little conversations they'd had over the weeks without ever once speaking a word to each other. Well, almost.

"_Hi, Kieren. I'm Customer and I'll be your simon today… shit."_

No matter how sick of that damn joke he is, Simon's one and only attempt always leaves him feeling like his grin could split his face in two. Fancy that- Simon; tall, dark, handsome charmer that he is, enrapturing many with his words alone, tripping over his own tongue on their first proper meeting.

Kieren glances through the door, and notices Simon settling down in his spot by the window. Right on time. He looks to Simon, to the notes, back to Simon.

As he makes the coffee, he also makes a decision.

Simon seems surprised to see him approach with a fresh pot of coffee in hand- well, he hadn't technically ordered yet. It's not like he ever changed his order, anyway. Kieren sets down the coffee and cups, smiling softly at Simon as he places the napkin down last.

"On the house," he says, hugging the tray to his chest and walking briskly away.

Behind him, Simon reads the note, feeling his heart lift with every word.

_So, Mr. Customer- fancy being my simon again this evening? I get off work at 5._

Kieren barely waits till Simon's out the door to scurry over for the reply.

_Do you even need to ask? I'll be there at quarter to._

Kieren grins, strolling back to stick the latest additions in his sketchbook. Call him a soppy optimist, but he actually has a good feeling about this guy.

* * *

Eight months later, sprawled out on the sofa as the Indiana Jones movie marathon draws to a close, Simon wonders how a stupid nervous blunder turned out to be the best mistake of his life.

It had taken all day and a lot of coffee to keep them moving, but every box is unpacked, the unfamiliar apartment already feels like home. He's glad they got the DVD player installed so quickly- they haven't got round to setting up the TV license yet.

His fingers run through the soft, coppery hair beneath his hand, and he wonders how Kieren managed to fall right asleep at literally the most action-packed moment in the franchise. No doubt about it, the man's talented.

Despite the manual labour, Simon couldn't remember a day this perfect in his entire life- nothing but him and Kieren, unpacking all their memories from their own lives to combine in their shared one, arguing over arrangements and often shoving each other into boxes. Honestly, with the amount of childish fun they'd had with the cardboard crates and bubble wrap he didn't even regret the clean-up that awaited them.

So much had happened in the past eight months. Too many dates to count, mostly to films and music festivals. So many sleepless nights, and _not_ always in the way you'd expect- most of the time they just lost track of the time and talked into the night, tea going rapidly cold right under their noses. Kieren had been building up a portfolio, intending to resign from the café and try and strike out on his own as an artist- he could finally afford to take the chance now he was going to be splitting the rent. Simon had met his family- his boisterous sister, his welcoming parents, all of them supposedly delighted to see their brother and son moving on with his life. A lot of people still thought they were moving too fast- sure, maybe moving in together after eight months of dating wasn't unbelievable, but apparently Simon gave off the vibe that he could drop down on one knee at any moment. And maybe they were right, but he wasn't going to rush into anything and scare Kieren away. He could wait. He had all the time in the world.

He wonders how things would have played out differently if it weren't for Amy.

The first day she'd showed up at the support group she'd immediately swept everyone off their feet. Smart, pretty, funny Amy- always happy to help, always ready to crack a joke. She'd become a regular after that, and Simon couldn't say he minded.

Then she'd recommended a new meeting spot to replace the grimy diner they'd frequented- a new coffee shop off the high street.

He was a goner the moment he'd laid eyes on Kieren Walker. God, he'd been so nervous he hadn't even managed to speak to him, always relying on Amy to place his orders. The reason for his sudden muteness had been no secret to her- she'd smirked at him every time Kieren had walked passed, passing him napkins with little hearts sketched on them, engraved with things like 'K+M 4EVER' and 'Mr. Simon Walker'. He'd always had to hastily ball those up before Kieren got close enough to see.

Then, one unremarkable day in mid-April, no one showed up to support group. Save for one.

"Hello, handsome!" Amy had greeted him, standing outside the door to the café with her skirts swishing in the breeze.

"Hi, Amy," he'd answered, frowning. "Where is everyone?"

"Told 'em today was cancelled," she'd smiled, taking his arm and pulling him towards the door. "We have more important matters to attend to!"

She'd pointed towards an empty table at the window, and Simon blushed as he saw Kieren disappear into the kitchen.

"Today, you have a very important mission," she'd said solemnly, taking his coat and hanging it on the rack. "Ask the cutie out!"

"Wha- no!"

"No use in arguing," she'd said in a sing-song voice as she propelled him towards the table. "Come on, you've got a way with words- if you can talk that miserable group out of a slump every week you can talk to the boy you like!"

"Amy!" he'd whined, dragging her to a stop. "I can't just _ask him out, _I've never even spoken to him before!"

"Fine, then, you don't have to ask him out- but you _do _have to talk to him. I'm not placing your orders this time, Mymon!" she'd shoved him down into the empty seat, pointing to the other end of the room. "I'm gonna be observing you from afar, just to make sure you don't mess up _too _horribly! Simple, just ask him for food, make a joke, instant conversation!"

"Don't know any jokes…" he'd grumbled.

He remembered that mischievous grin that had spread across her face like it was only yesterday. "Don't worry, I've got one…"

Of course, he hadn't found out till months later about Kieren's deep-seated loathing for that god-awful joke. But at the time he hadn't been able to think of anything else.

He probably would have never heard from Kieren again if he'd managed to keep his clumsy tongue from getting it wrong. Frankly, he'd been as surprised as Kieren when he'd managed to get that outrageously simple joke twisted up. Apparently his legendary diction and mastery of words did not extend to bad pick-up lines or conversations with ludicrously attractive men. Just as well, really. It was only his 'adorable' slip-up that kept Kieren from hating his guts.

He'll never say it again, but thank God for social awkwardness.

He picks up his phone, clicking into his inbox. Eight months' worth of texts in his hard drive, but he knows exactly how far back he has to scroll to find that one particular message. Received that day, mere seconds after Kieren had walked away before he could burst out laughing. He still smiles whenever he sees it, imagining the look of angry disbelief on Amy's face as she watched the entire exchange.

**You had ONE job!**

He chuckles, putting the phone back on the table and wrapping his arm around the gentle rise and fall of Kieren's chest.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

**Fluff, fluff, fluff! Hope you enjoyed, my lovelies!**

**Now, I'm tryna keep at least relatively frequent with my various ITF fic updates, but if in the next month or so I slow down I have one quite likely explanation: the last Heroes of Olympus book comes out next month. I will be reading it, freaking out, and depending on how it leaves me feeling it may even prompt another burst of Valdangelo feels which will need to be fanfic'd. If that happens I will try not to keep my loyal ITF readers waiting, but there might be more delays. Just a heads up!**

**Thank you, m'dears! Until next time! X**


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